


Touch the Sky

by paintyouwings



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bipolar Disorder, Blowjobs, Childhood Friends, Coming Out, Depression, Everything that has to do with bipolar disorder, Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, Hospitalization, M/M, Manic Episode, Suicidal Thoughts, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 23:17:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13200687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintyouwings/pseuds/paintyouwings
Summary: Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson didn’t have it easy as kids. They were only trying to deal with bad situations at home when they became lifelines for each other. Their pipe dream was to someday meet in London, where Harry would design skyscrapers, and Louis would learn to fly. But then Louis disappeared without so much as a goodbye, and Harry got himself in trouble with the law.Five years later, both men are at a loss when they run into each other at a London pub. Harry is still angry, but it’s not as if Louis could control how his mind and body had betrayed him. Being found on the ledge of that bridge had changed everything.The attraction is immediate, but it’s more than their inability to keep their hands off each other. Neither man expects the fierce connection pulling them together. Unfortunately, ignoring their problems doesn’t make them disappear. Gabriel’s internal struggles are serious…dangerous. And no matter how much Harry wants it to be true, saving Louis won’t make up for not being able to save his mom. If they don’t find the strength to face their own demons before the darkness takes hold, they risk more than just losing each other forever.





	Touch the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> So this is an actual published book of the same title. I’ve just edited it into a Larry and a third person fic (because the original is a first person and I hate it). As someone with bipolar disorder, I thought this book was a great representation without romanticizing the illness. I wanted to help bring more awareness to bipolar disorder and show people that even if we have manic or depressive episodes sometimes, we can still live healthy normal lives and have relationships just like everyone else.

             Five years earlier  
_Harry,_  
_Mate, are we really doing this? I can’t believe we’re going to come out to our families. I mean, I’m glad. I really am. No matter what. No matter how his dad responds—and he will respond—hopefully not with his fist. But fuck, I can take it because it’s eating me alive, being locked inside hisself like this. I’ve been going stir crazy, mate. I wish we lived closer and we could meet up someplace afterward, especially if it doesn’t go so well. You know his dad; he can be a bastard. But from what you’ve told me about your mom… I think she’ll be great. And his mom, she might just do what she normally does, which is ignore me. But at least it’ll be out there and they’ll know. Because shit, it’s so lonely… I sound like such a wuss when I say things like that. I’m alone, because no one knows me. Not like you do. I don’t feel as empty inside when I message you. It’s like you get me. I know you do. But this time next week our families will know who we are too. And maybe… I don’t know, I’ve got to have hope. I’ve got to believe it’ll be okay. If not, it’s not too much longer until we’re eighteen. We’ll go to London and really live. I can’t wait to do everything we talked about! I can’t wait to meet you in person one day. I’m so damn glad we found each other on that message board._  
We got this,  
Louis

* * *

* * *

  
Louis stares at the five-year-old email with a lump in his throat. He saved them all, even the photos Harry sent of himself with that curly brown hair, green eyes, and lips that Louis pictured kissing on more than one occasion. Mostly, he imagined having a friend. Somebody he could trust through the emotional wreckage that had been consuming his life. But that message was the final one he'd written to Harry. The last time Louis remembered being so fucking scared of what would happen. If you didn’t count when the steel door locked behindhim with his parents on the other side. That was the night some stranger saw me teetering on the ledge of a bridge. Louis wasn’t going to jump, for fuck’s sake—he was only chasing a high. Trying to quiet the buzzing noise inside his brain. It was better than feeling numb. Way the hell better. Moving here wasn’t nearly as frightening as all of that. It was a relief to leave Doncaster and come to London. To drop his general courses at uni and figure out his own path. This is the city he thought he’d be meeting Harry in someday, and somehow being here, even though Louis hadn't spoken to him in years, made him feel like he was working toward some goal. The same goal he had confided to Harry so long ago. He also came because he was itching to get the hell away, to finally be on his own. He was too much of a chickenshit the year after his hospitalization to message Harry and admit that they’d slapped a bipolar label on him. That he'd been given powerful meds because apparently you can also become delusional or some shit while manic. His dad’s face, though, that was the worst. And when Louis came out to him in that inpatient therapy session—fuck. Worse than his fist against his stomach. But they never talked about his threatening words, his punishing glares. His mom catering to him and never to Louis. He was the dirty secret, him and his messed-up head, not his dad.Louis' back slides against the wall until he's sitting on the floor in his room with his laptop on his knees. The cold plaster feels good against his skin. He should delete that email. But he don’t. He can’t. Louis thinks of Harry often, wonders what he’s up to. If he found somebody else who got him. A good guy, a beautiful guy. Love. his chest seizes up. Louis wants that for him, wonders if they could have had it together. Or maybe he would’ve continued to just be his friend. Hell, he's not sure he’ll be able to have that with anybody. Not with the way the wires are crossed in his brain. his foot connects with his forgotten glass of soda, spilling it in a small river over the hardwood floor. “Damn it!” his thoughts are all over the place lately, thinking about those old emails, and starting to feel like shit for no reason that makes any type of sense. He tosses aside his computer on the bed and grabs for the tissue box to clean up the mess. “Everything cool in there?” his roommate calls to him through the locked door. “Fine,” Louis grumble. He has to keep this place clean or Niall might find a good excuse to kick him out. Dude smokes his share of weed but he knows when even one thing is out of place in this apartment. “You call off sick today?” he asks in a muffled voice. The problem with renting a room on the outskirts of London from a dude who paints in his home studio is that he knows his schedule too well, including how early or late Louis gets home. But years ago, Harry and Louis didn’t bank on how pricey the area would be, only that it was liberal and thriving enough for two kids who had wanderlust. “Nah, the supplies didn’t come in on time, so the foreman let us go early.” At least he's being honest. Besides, Louis doesn't want to be on that scaffold today. Not yesterday either. Not with these scary hopeless thoughts running through his scrambled brain. Man, he normally loves being up there with a birds-eye view of the entire city. He even turned down going out with the construction crew for a liquid lunch. He can hold his own and be the life of the party if you catch him on the right day. Those same lads would probably rip me a new asshole if they saw me sniveling in his room like this. John would understand though; he’s been cool to Louis. He always talks to him about his teen boy’s problems, probably because Louis is closest to his age. A knock at his door. “I’m heading across the street to get some food. Want to come?” Niall asks. There’s a small diner they order from on a regular basis. Louis is tired, so fucking tired that his limbs feel like dead weight. He should drag hisself up, though. He only does this weeping shit when he's crashing. Which is why he pulled up those messages from Harry again. He needed some type of quiet comfort because this part always scares the shit out of him. How he can’t control it. He can only just roll with it. But his body is fighting him, only wants to sleep. Add in his jumbled thoughts and he wouldn’t be good company to anybody. He knows this pattern. You start to understand your body after a while. If he holds on another day or so, his energy level will return and he'll be on top of his game again. “Go ahead without me.” he shouldn’t be anti-social but it’s hard enough pretending at work this week. He doesn’t want to pretend with him too. His feet scuff the floor, and he can hear him hesitating, deliberating. Like he knows. Knows something is wrong with him again. “How about I bring you back something? Have you even eaten today?” Damn, he feels sorry for him. He glares at his top drawer where his two empty pill bottles have remained unfilled for well over a year. He knows he should start the meds again, now that he finally has insurance. They might even help him pack on some extra weight. But then that veil will go up, the one that keeps him at arm’s length from the world, and he fucking hates that feeling. He forces himself to stand up and glance in thedresser mirror. his caramel hair is all disheveled and he has shadows beneath his eyes, even though he's been sleeping a ton. He needs to get his ass in gear, especially since he has a paper due for his on-line class tomorrow. Another knock. Shit. He had left him hanging. “Louis?” “Uh, sure man,” he says, in the cheeriest voice he can muster. “Any kind of sandwich will do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Editing takes longer than I expected so let me know if this is worth continuing.


End file.
